


"what is the holiness of conversation?"

by notjustmom



Series: "You remember too much..." [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 06:34:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13358571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: Just a bit of pillow talk.





	"what is the holiness of conversation?"

It was easy to find the sacred in silence, Sherlock thought as he stared up at the ceiling, or near silence, as he listened to the ever-present drizzle of rain, and John's gentle breathing at his side. He closed his eyes against the darkness, nearly pitch black save for the light from the kitchen that they had forgotten to turn off, in their haste to fall into bed together. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that they saved their conversations for the bedroom. Yes, of course they talked all the time, it seemed, about stuff people talk about, the chatter that people who share a flat and lives and beds do, but it was only in the dark of night, or the early edges of the morning after they had stripped everything off, and taken that first breath together, as if they hadn't breathed all day, that they actually spoke to each other, actually listened. He realised that he hadn't known how to have a conversation until he met John. John made him listen; paid attention when he spoke, there had to be something holy in that, not that he truly had any idea about holiness, but it seemed to him that it was a rare thing, to be heard. To be understood. 

He rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes to see John watching him. 

"What are you thinking about?" He asked him gently.

"Hmmm. You."

"Me."

"Yes, of course, you."

"What about me?" 

Sherlock watched as the gold flecks in John's dark eyes flashed at him. "How you listen to me. Even when I babble utter rubbish. No one really ever listened to me before. No, perhaps I mean heard, I don't know. You make me slow down enough to consider the words I use, I don't want you to misunderstand, or misinterpret, I suppose - and it - matters that you listen to me. I'm babbling utter rubbish again."

John rolled his eyes, then reached out to smooth out the nose crinkle, he supposed it was, that appeared when Sherlock was flustered, or frustrated by his inability to communicate what was in his head to him. "No. You aren't. It was one of the first things about you that I noticed. You always talked over everyone, even Mrs. Hudson, but never me. You would wait for me to finish speaking, as if I were important, from the day we met. You always looked into my eyes, and watched me, as if trying to decipher me. No one had ever thought me interesting enough to -"

Sherlock waited for him to finish.

"pay me that much attention. There's something a bit holy in that, I think."

Sherlock kissed John's forehead, then laid back down on his back and sighed as John moved to rest his head on his shoulder. Soon their fingers entwined and they took one last breath together before they went back to sleep.


End file.
